I Stand Alone
by Flick-chan
Summary: Heroic status doesn't guarantee happiness, and Robin is desperately trying to resist the temptation to taste the forbidden fruit... [SladeRobin]


Author's Notes: This is a companion piece to 'Harder To Breathe', and takes place at the same time. Once again, Robin/Starfire is the physical pairing, but this is a Slade/Robin fic. If this kind of thing doesn't float your boat, then please, don't read it. I'd like to thank everyone who read and/or reviewed the first part. I'm grateful for your support - hugs to you all. Be wary of an OOC Robin! Reviews/comments/questions are always welcomed. Enjoy the story.

Disclaimer: The 'Teen Titans' aren't mine; I merely like to toy with their emotions. Surely, you can forgive a writer for that?

Dedication: As before, this is for Diamond Dew - the second of her Slade/Robin - tastic gifts!

"I've told you this once before, you can't control me  
If you try to take me down, you're gonna break  
I stand alone  
Inside I stand alone..." -: 'I Stand Alone', by 'Godsmack'

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I Stand Alone

By Flick-chan

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"You are like him. He could not trust you; and you could not trust us."

Her lips brushed against yours, and you felt a soft groan form in the back of your throat. You fought to keep it there, trying not to curse. She wasn't the one who was making you feel this way. It was him, and you were ashamed of it. He had taken over your thoughts, infected your brain with his poisonous words. She was right, and every time she looked down at you with that knowing smile, all you could think of was him. Of his next move.

Of how you were like him.

Of what he had done to you.

And most of all, of how you wanted him.

You felt so dirty, lying there with her by your side. You were doing this to please her; to attempt to make up for the obvious hurt you had caused her after the Red X saga. She wanted this, and revelled in it. But you…you didn't.

What made it worse was that you loved her. You loved the way her body rested lightly against yours, how it fitted perfectly over the shape and size of your muscles - whether standing up, or sitting down. You were enchanted by her perfect eyes, and the way they fluttered too quickly when she was embarrassed. Her perfect hair, soft as flaxen to the touch, remained so; not looking even slightly tousled after any activity.

Yes, she was perfect. But perfection wasn't what you wanted.

Once, it might have been; no longer. What you craved now, was humbleness. Originality. Honestly.

And he had all that. His bloody fault. He had made you this way, with his games and tricks and plans. As soon as you had begun to chase him, cut the headlines from newspapers. Become obsessive. He had you pinioned. And he knew it.

All you could do was think about him, and what he was doing. Could be doing. It was wrong; you knew that much. To muse over the enemy, when the girl you cared most about in the world sat atop you, whispering words of comfort into the canal of your ear.

They were empty words of comfort, though. Nothing she could say would make you feel better, or help you to deny the truth.

You _were_ like him.

And the brutal reality was, there was no way you could stop it. He had groomed you, made you what you were. If only you'd had patience, like he'd suggested. Then, you might not have become so deeply enthralled in his world. In his passions; which you now shared.

You didn't want to be the leader of the Titans anymore. You weren't worthy, or able. Secretly, all you wanted was someone to care for you. Someone who made you the submissive one. You often wondered what it would be like to have to follow orders. To be the cog in the machine, instead of the one pulling the levers.

You were sick of being the one who did the chasing. Sick of being the one who had to take charge. For once in your life, you wanted to feel helpless.

He'd polluted your thinking; you knew that if the situation ever arose, you'd be on top of it like nothing else, but his presence, his words…they made you - _you_ - feel uncomfortable. And for a split second, you wanted to give up the fight, the game. You prayed for him to stop: stop making you feel worthless and stupid.

More than anything else, you wished you could stop the feeling that you wanted his body on top of yours, his scraggly nails digging into your bruised flesh, rather than her long, shapely ones. His callused hands caressing your hair, touching your lips and eyes and chin. His burning gaze scorching through your flesh, searching for the one word which would make you crumble, and kneel to him in defeat. His rough, stubble laden chin scratching at your own, paining you, giving you reason to cry out.

But you couldn't, because just like her words, this feeling was not just a hunch. It was the truth.

It wasn't that you liked him - it was more the challenge. The erotic tension that the moments between you presented. You knew he wanted you. Perhaps not sexually, but he wanted something with you. That was why he kept returning, kept fighting and stealing. So that you would come to him. You did have some sort of power over him. Wherever you went, he would follow. You were sure of it.

However, he had power over you. He was manipulating you. Forcing you into playing his game. Forcing you to want him.

But it was more than you wanting him, though. You wanted to be taken by him. To be his prisoner, captured in chains and ropes and bonds. Pleading. Begging. Covered in kisses and bruises and licks and bites. Forced into submission.

You wanted him to need you. You needed him to need you. Damn your body, damn it to Hell. He knew the way you'd react to this...knew that the one way he could get to you was through your urges. Sometimes being sixteen helped your cause; sometimes it didn't.

Starfire…she wouldn't understand what was making you feel this way. No-one would. That was why you couldn't tell them. Your friends. And that was why you were like him.

You could not trust us.

She was right. She always had been. And even as you let slip a pant, a breath of exertion, you felt guilty. You body was reacting to her touches the way your mind could not. And it was all his fault. He had done this to you.

Slade.

And even though you were caught in his web, plagued by lustful thoughts of him, you would not submit. You would stay here, in Starfire's arms, and ponder everything which you could not have. Should be glad not to have.

You would not submit.

Could not.

Should not.

No. You would not go willingly.

End


End file.
